A Dream I Thought I Lost
Stories have always lived quietly inside me. When I was younger, I used to dream of becoming a writer. I imagined creating worlds, characters, and emotions that people could get lost in. Writing felt like magic back then — the idea that something you imagine in your mind could become a story that someone else could feel. But life happened. Growing up meant responsibilities, work, expectations, and the many realities of adult life. Like many childhood dreams, writing slowly became something I placed on a shelf and told myself I would come back to “someday.” Somewhere along the way, that “someday” felt very far away. Then BL found its way into my life. During one of the darkest periods of my life, BL stories and series became an unexpected source of comfort. They helped me cope during moments when things felt heavy and overwhelming. These stories became a quiet refuge — a place where emotions were allowed to exist openly, where love could be soft, patient, messy, and healing. BL, in its ...